Winter Vacation
by Xanrivash
Summary: Demyx manages to get a rare week off in the middle of winter, and has found just the right place to make the most of it.
1. Solitude

Sometimes, being alone and isolated could be the best thing in the worlds. Of course, it depended very strongly on the circumstances in which one was alone and isolated. Being alone and isolated on a tiny rowboat in the middle of the ocean after dark, with bad weather approaching...well, whoever you were, you were probably screwed, doubly so if you were on your own. Being alone and isolated in a small but well-built lakeside cabin, sitting on a comfortable couch wrapped in a blanket, with a fire in the fireplace and a plate of comfort food in hand, watching the night snowstorm raging over the lake through the huge picture window secure in the knowledge that the bad weather wasn't getting at you...that had a lot to recommend it. Just you, the wind, and the water, except you got to watch the show while safely ensconced in your own little bubble of warmth and comfort.

Honestly, that was the life, Demyx thought as he pulled the blanket a little closer with one hand, watching the snowdrifts building on the thin patch of lawn and beach that separated this cabin from the water. It beat the living daylights out of being back at the castle, trying to wrangle a little more heat out of the in-room heater and trying to browbeat or wheedle an elder member into adjusting the castle's central heating system and sleeping on Axel's floor for warmth when all else failed. Granted, he'd have to go back to that in a week, assuming he didn't get yanked back earlier, but he was going to enjoy this brief vacation to the hilt. The vacation, and the mashed potatoes - laden with butter and cream, drenched in even more melted butter, and topped with diced green onion for crunch and bite. Most of Demyx's go-to comfort foods were Indian through and through, but these mashed potatoes were something special. Probably sick with fat and calories, too, but he didn't care - he didn't get them like this very often, and besides, he was a little below his ideal weight anyway and had been for quite a while. He could almost hear Axel ranting about vegetarians and health now, and couldn't help but laugh to himself. That wasn't why he'd become a vegetarian anyway. Briefly, he wondered what had been served for dinner at the castle, and laughed again. Whatever it was, he could bet it was something he couldn't eat; he pretty much took care of his own meals now, like Zexion. Except Zexion wasn't a vegetarian; he had food allergies. To shellfish. Which made up a substantial part of Demyx's diet, so he usually had to wait until both Xaldin and Zexion were done in the kitchen before he could eat. He was used to pretty late mealtimes now.

Of course, it was shortly after midnight in this world, and he was just eating dinner. That was late even for him. But these potatoes were so good...so rich and buttery, and the green onion offered just the right amount of crunch...this was just the sort of thing you wanted on a bitter winter night you didn't have to go out in. He should make it more often, except if he made it too often, he'd have to get a whole new set of uniforms, or at least bigger pants. That, or spend most of his free time in the arena exercising. That kind of exercise would severely cut into his music time. He'd rather go without the potatoes than the music. Potatoes were good; music was all-important. Speaking of which...he closed his eyes for a moment, just to listen to the wind howling and the fire crackling. His hearing aids picked up such environmental sounds easily, more easily than they did speech - normally that was more of a hindrance than anything, especially if he was trying to talk to someone who was reading at the same time (the rustling paper inevitably drowned out the other person's voice), but he wasn't trying to listen to anyone else right now. He was much more interested in the music of the wind and fire.

Hot fire, warm blankets, sturdy shelter, rich comfort food, a good show, a brilliant concert, a bit of alone time, and the ability to go straight back home or even bring some company here if he got too lonely. Could life get any better?

Well, yes, it could, he decided as one particularly loud pop from the fire was answered by a short burst of feedback from his left hearing aid. Life would be better if he could still hear for shit without hearing aids. But limiting himself to the possible, he couldn't see how life could get any better. And he was getting a full week of this, assuming something didn't happen back home - oh, glory. Tomorrow morning, if it had finished snowing by then, he could pop back to the castle and grab Axel and Roxas, if they were free, and bring them back here for a snowball fight. It would be a blast. And then he could make lunch for them - now what could he make here that both he and they would eat? Besides more mashed potatoes? A good fish chowder came to mind...he'd bought plenty of groceries before the snowstorm arrived...and this was definitely soup kind of weather...

Alas, the potatoes were gone. Eh, well. Demyx was warm, content, and well-fed as it was; he didn't really need more potatoes. Setting the empty plate aside, Demyx pulled the blanket a little closer, gazing out the window at the snowflakes swirling and dancing hypnotically just outside. He was so lucky - to have wrangled a full week off, to have found this cottage for rent by the week off-season, to just be here now. The wind was singing to him. Singing to him, a song he'd never get the chance to hear otherwise; like the snowflakes it was blowing around so wildly, this song was unique to this storm. The wind would blow again after, but this exact song would never be repeated. And while any normal person with functioning ears would only hear the howling gale, with no music behind it besides maybe the war-chant of some malevolent spirit bent on wreaking icy havoc, Demyx, a highly unusual "person" with all-but-useless ears, heard more, much more - there was no malice in the wind, no ill-will. Its song was a celebration of its own strength, its own majesty, its own self - its own freedom.

He might well be the only person in the world able to hear the real music in the wind. And frankly, that was a shame. It would be nice if he could make everyone hear it the same way he did, but that was impossible; the closest he could come was writing it down and playing it for them. And no human musician, no matter how gifted, could really replicate the music of nature.

Then again...maybe a skilled enough musician could teach other people to appreciate the music the same way. Maybe he could, if he tried hard enough. That was an encouraging thought. If nothing else, he might be able to at least capture some of the essence of this song for posterity.

He sighed softly, rearranging the blanket a little and putting out the fire with a well-placed splash of water as he lay down on the couch. He would have to haul himself off the couch and into the bedroom sooner or later, but that could wait - for now, he was content to lie on the couch in the dark, listening to the wind. He couldn't see the snow falling anymore, but he knew it was out there, dancing and swirling and piling up into mounds of soft, cold whiteness. He really did have to haul Axel and Roxas over for a snowball fight tomorrow, if they were free...it would be so awesome...and after the snowball fight was over and they'd had their chowder or whatever he decided to make, he could play for them. He already knew what he'd play - the music he'd heard in the wind tonight. He kind of wished they'd been here to hear it tonight, but they wouldn't have understood it...besides, it was nice to get a little solitude once in a while, he reflected as he blinked sleepily, trying to force his eyes to stay open. Eventually, he just gave up and let his eyes sink closed for a moment, enjoying the oddly floaty sensation it caused, and accidentally drifted off to sleep, still lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and listening to the wind.

* * *

AN: All right, so I can still write drabbles. If you extend the definition of "drabble" to include 1,500 words about Demyx eating mashed potatoes and going to sleep...

This (should) become a continuation of the Hundred Themes Challenge I started with "Losing the Melody". So there is a point to this thing. Let it live. This one is "Solitude".


	2. Kick in the Head

"So...what's with this car again? Why couldn't we just portal to the cabin or something?"

"Forget your Dramamine or something, Axel?" Demyx asked absently, more worried about ice on the road and deer that might jump out into it than he was about his passengers' discomfort. "I told you, not all the houses in the area are summer homes or rental properties. People do live there year-round. They saw me drive up to the place yesterday, they probably know I'm renting it, all well and good. If I suddenly had a couple guests literally appear out of nowhere - all not well and good. So you two have to arrive by car like normal people. Or the neighbors might think we're...I dunno. Canadian maple syrup smugglers or something, and you somehow sneaked over by boat last night in the storm."

Roxas, at least, cracked up at that; Axel just looked uncomfortable and cranky. "You aren't supposed to be driving anyway," he continued to complain. "Aren't people with seizure disorders not allowed to drive unless it's been two or three years since their last seizure?"

"That's assuming the local DMV knows about it," Demyx said, trying to stay focused on the road and not on the aggravation in the backseat. "And rest assured, if I start feeling anything vaguely like an aura, I'll pull over immediately. By the way, getting severely emotionally overwrought, including extremely angry, can trigger a seizure, so if you don't want me to have a seizure behind the wheel, don't piss me off." Axel muttered something unpleasant under his breath, but shut up, for which Demyx was grateful - the closer they got, the worse the roads were. Thankfully, the rental car had snow tires.

_I am so glad I thought to shovel the driveway this morning,_ Demyx thought to himself as they finally pulled in. Even so, he could feel the wheels slipping and sliding a little on the ice as they crawled up the slightly-sloped driveway, and he didn't quite breathe until he actually had it in "Park" and had the parking brake on. He hated winter driving so very, very much... "All right, we're here," he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and unlocked the doors so the other two could get out. "Keep in mind that I don't own this place, so don't break anything the real owners might consider important. Like the renter; I only paid them half up front."

"Were you actually worried that we might? And if you were, why did you invite us here?" Roxas cracked as they opened their doors almost simultaneously. Demyx snorted, trying to think of an appropriately wise-ass answer, as he stepped out of the car - wait, shit, no traction - his foot shot out from under him suddenly as he tried to grab at the door for support and his fingers couldn't quite -

"Demyx? Come on, get back with us, man. Just open your eyes."

Before working up the energy to do so, Demyx took a few moments to consider his current situation - he was now lying on his back all of a sudden, on something very cold, something was patting his cheeks, and his head hurt like a bitch. He groaned slightly and pried his eyes open to find two rather blurry Axels leaning over him with concerned expressions, and beyond them, the sky. "What the fuck happened?" he croaked, already starting to put it together himself.

"You slipped and cracked your head on the ground," Axel said, confirming his suspicions. "And then, because Roxas apparently believes in kicking people while they're down -"

"That was an accident!" Roxas protested from somewhere behind Demyx, sounding absolutely mortified. "I slipped too! I was busy trying not to fall down and bust my own head open!"

Axel only snickered at that. "Well, after he randomly decided it was a good idea to kick you in the head -"

"_It was an accident!"_

"Sure, Roxas, whatever you say. Just trying to bust up poor Demyx's head a little extra."

"Guys..." Demyx held up a hand, trying to will himself to see only one Axel. "Let's just go inside..." He tried to sit up, and almost went straight back down - not only did his head start pounding three times as fiercely when he did that, the world tilted and spun in a most disconcerting manner with the faintest movement. "Oh...okay...that wasn't a good idea..." he groaned, lying back down as gently as he could manage. "Fuck, my head..."

Axel looked up, presumably at Roxas, then back down at Demyx, shaking his head with concern. "Demyx, what pocket are...screw it. Roxas, you get the door; I'll see about getting this doofus inside. We can't leave him out here until his head straightens out on its own."

Demyx was too dazed and disoriented to protest, even about the possible dangers of Roxas using magic to unlock the door. He simply lay on the ground, all but inert, as he heard the door open, then Axel hauled him to his feet and he had to squeeze his eyes shut as the combination of a pounding head and spinning scenery made him feel ill. "Go slow or I'm gonna heave," he pleaded.

"All right, I will; you've puked on me often enough in the past...don't worry; we're not going far. Just to the bed inside, or the couch, or whatever soft surface is handiest."

"Couch," Demyx groaned, clutching at the back of his head with the arm Axel wasn't using to support him. "First room you get to past the entryway...fuck, my head..."

"Just relax, man," Axel said reassuringly as he dragged Demyx through the front door. "We'll get you there. Roxas, can you get an ice pack ready?"

Demyx tried to will himself to ignore everything that was going on around him for the next several moments, especially his aching, spinning head. He didn't dare open his eyes again until he knew he was lying down somewhere soft with a blanket over him and an ice pack pressed against the giant lump on the back of his head. When he did, the opposite wall duplicated itself and spun briefly, then settled back down, for which he was grateful. "Aw, he's got a kettle of soup on the stove," he could hear Roxas saying from the kitchen.

"Isn't that nice of him? Too bad you don't get any because you kicked him."

"Axel...knock that off," Demyx said with a vague wave of his hand, even though he couldn't see either of them from his position on the couch. "He says it was an accident...fuck, I don't even remember it. I must have been knocked out on impact. With the ground."

"Fine, fine, if you insist. You're way too ambitious for your own good, you know. When did you start this, dawn?"

"Shut up," Demyx grumbled, wishing his head would stop hurting. "This world is about three hours ahead of home. It's almost noon here. And I didn't spend that long on it. I was just letting that cool on the stove so I could put it in the fridge while we did other stuff and heat it up later."

"Other stuff? Like what?" Roxas said, coming in to give him a couple Tylenol. "I figured these would help with your head..."

"Thanks," Demyx grunted, swallowing the pills without a moment's hesitation. "I was thinking about a snowball fight, personally...ugh, that hurts...it seemed the obvious..."

Roxas winced and shook his head regretfully. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen right now. At least, you better rest and wait for your head to stop hurting first. Should we put the soup away for you?"

"Not right now, I'm eating some," Axel called from the kitchen.

Roxas snorted and sat down on the end of the couch not occupied by any part of Demyx's body. "If it weren't for insulin pumps, he'd eat himself into a coma once a week and die by the age of thirty," he said. "Mind if I turn the TV on? I'll keep the volume low..."

"Sure, go ahead," Demyx grunted as Axel came in with a bowl of soup and sat down on the floor with his back against the couch. "Don't get many channels, though..."

"Well, we get no channels at all at home," Axel put in cheekily. "So as long as your only channel isn't CSPAN or - wait, Roxas, go back to that last one. Sweet; the Raiders are playing. Let's watch that."

"Fine," Demyx said with a wave of his hand. "I get next to nothing out of football, but if it keeps you quiet." Axel gave an affronted snort at that, but the game stayed on, and silence soon reigned, except for the sound of the TV and Axel having to explain what was going on to Roxas, who didn't understand the game any more than Demyx did and actually cared a little. Demyx just lay back and rested and waited for his head to quit aching. Eventually, he drifted into a semiconscious dream state between sleeping and waking, watching football players run around and burly guys drink beer on TV and Axel go to the kitchen and come back with two bowls of soup without really being sure whether any of what he saw was for real. He didn't really care that much; in this half-awake state, the pain was easier to ignore.

"Hey, you're not allowed to do that. You're not supposed to fall asleep when you get a concussion."

"I wasn't really asleep, Ax," Demyx grunted as he roused into something like full consciousness. "I wasn't really awake, either, but I wasn't asleep. How's the game going?"

"Game's over, Raiders lost, oh well," Axel said, standing up and stretching with a soup bowl still in his hand. "Rox, you done with your soup?"

"Yeah," Roxas said, handing his presumably-empty bowl over to Axel. "It was good soup, though. Demyx, how's your head?"

Demyx tried to sit up a little to answer that question, and was a little surprised to discover that the relentless throb was now down to a bearable ache. "Still hurts a bit, but I can function now, I think."

"Enough to survive a snowball fight without us having to trade our ammo for marshmallows?" Axel asked pointedly.

Demyx shook his head gingerly, quirking a faint smile. "Not quite yet...first, I want a bowl of that soup. I tried a couple spoonfuls while I was making it and that was it."

Axel rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically. "See, Roxas?" he declared in an unnecessarily loud voice. "We could be outside having a blast pelting each other with snowballs right now if only you hadn't decided to kick him in the head -"

"Axel, I told you -!"

* * *

AN: Sorry, the snowball fight has to wait one more chapter. XD This is number 58, "Kick in the Head", interpreted very literally.


	3. Mischief Managed

"So...do you feel fit to go out and throw some snowballs _yet_?"

"I think I might have one more bowl of soup first," Demyx said cheekily, even though he was already full - he was just trying to grind Axel's gears a little more, after Axel had been grinding his and Roxas's gears all morning. "After all, I can't keep the leftovers indefinitely, and I wouldn't want to have to eat it the whole time I'm here just to get rid of it."

Axel looked like he was about to punch the wall. "Demyx...all right, if the soup means that much to you, Roxas and I can take it back to the castle with us when we leave. How does that sound? That way, you don't have to waste fridge space on it here and you don't have to throw it out when you leave. Because if you try to eat it all in one sitting like you are, by the time you finish lunch, we'll have to leave."

Demyx couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. "I would almost like to see myself try. But I can keep it out on the porch or something if I'm stuck for fridge space - it's cold enough that it should keep. Now shall we collect Roxas, bundle up, and get to pelting each other with snowballs?"

"Can't. Roxas is in the bathroom."

Demyx smacked his hands on the table in exasperation, wondering if this was a deliberate attempt to grind him just a little more. "Then why were you in an all-fired hurry for me to finish eating if we had to wait for him anyway? Don't answer that. Just get your coat and boots back on." He could hear Axel laughing as the redhead went out to the entryway to retrieve his robe and boots while Demyx dropped the dirty dishes off at the sink, too irate to feel like washing them right away. He was going to have to get him somehow.

As if on cue, the back of his head started throbbing dully. Not enough to really be a serious distraction, but enough to sharpen his temper. Axel was definitely in for it. Clenching his jaw slightly, he went over and knocked on the bathroom door. "I'll be out in a second," Roxas's voice answered from the other side.

"Good; then we can get the snowball fight started in a second," Demyx called back, not bothering to hide his impatience. There was a moment's silence, then the toilet flushed, water ran in the sink, and Roxas appeared, looking bright and eager and a little flustered. "Good time you made there," Demyx said, giving him a thumbs-up as he went to get his robe and boots on.

"I didn't want you to go out and bury Axel in snowballs before I had a chance to," Roxas said as he pulled on his own boots. "After all that crap about -"

"Like either of you would get a chance to bury me in snowballs," Axel declared loudly, posing in the door to the entryway with no winter wear but his robe and boots while the other two bundled themselves up. "It's a pipe dream, little brothers. I will kick both your asses, got it memorized?" Before either of them could come up with an appropriate retort, he was out the door, presumably to stockpile snowballs.

Demyx couldn't help but growl under his breath as he tightened his scarf a little. "He's gonna be one sorry son of a bitch when I'm through with him. And wet."

"If his video game tactics are anything to go by, he's busy finding a good ambush position," Roxas muttered. "Either we better get out there before he has time to find one, or we better be really wary."

"Hmph," was all Demyx said in response. As if Axel hadn't already been in for it. All right, where could Axel hide himself in suitable position for an ambush without going off the property? Demyx didn't exactly know his way around like the back of his hand, but he could think of a few likely places...and there was no such thing as a good ambush point from any direction... "Don't go outside yet," he cautioned Roxas as he started creeping through the house, peering out all the windows one by one. "I want to see if I can see where he is from inside."

Roxas blinked at him, then ducked down, out of sight of any of the windows. "Would be nice if you could do that in Team Fortress...if you do find him, what next? Are you going to use a portal to get the drop on him?"

"Nope. Neighbors just might be watching. What I do if and when I see him will depend entirely on where he is..." He couldn't see anything from either kitchen window or the bathroom window, so he crept across the living room floor, scanning the picture window carefully, and then sneaked into the bedroom, peering cautiously through the windows. When he saw a flash of brilliant red by the woodpile - this side of the woodpile - he couldn't help but smile thinly. "Found him," he called softly to Roxas. "He's behind the woodpile if you're looking at the woodpile from outside, but not from inside. And he's right under the overhang. All right, here's my plan; see what you think of it..."

Roxas liked the plan. It was swiftly put into motion. After a few minutes spent working out the details and making sure they both knew what they were supposed to be doing, Demyx opened the front door loudly and came stomping out with a gait unlike what was normal for him; Roxas sneaked out silently right behind him and immediately set to making snowballs. Trying not to laugh out loud, Demyx pulled a tiny directional microphone that was wirelessly connected to his hearing aids out of his pocket, pointed it at the corner of the house Axel was sure to come around soon, and called, in a voice distinctly not his own, "Any of you dudes hiding out here? This is kind of important!"

There was a moment's pause, and Axel could be heard grumbling under his breath - the directional mic worked great; it could even pick up footsteps crunching on snow. "All right, all right, I'm coming...Demyx will have y-_ mother fuck it!_"

As every speck of snow on that side of the house slid off the roof and directly onto Axel, the outraged yelling was Roxas's cue to grab all the snowballs he could and run around the corner of the house, slinging at top speed; Demyx quickly pocketed the mic, grabbed the rest of the snowballs, and followed him. By the time he got there, Axel was already half-buried in snow, and the barrage of snowballs Roxas was pelting him with didn't help; he hadn't had time to premake too many, but he made them quickly, there was snow all around, and Axel wasn't fully recovered from the snow the roof had dumped on him yet. When Demyx started firing snowballs at him too, he was completely overwhelmed. "Stop! Stop!" he yelled, trying to protect his head with his arms. "I give! This isn't fair! If all the snow from the roof hadn't just fallen on me -" His face flushed bright red as Roxas and Demyx started laughing even harder at that, apparently picking up on the fact that the snow hadn't fallen of its own accord. "Oh, you motherfuckers. Where's Xigbar? Did he drop that shit on me, or did you just haul him in as a decoy? This is the kind of thing he'd find funny as hell..."

Roxas could barely stop laughing long enough to choke out a few words. "I dunno what you're talking about, Ax," he sputtered, and dissolved into giggles. "Xigbar was never here."

Axel's face was almost as red as his hair now, and Demyx could see the veins bulging in his temple. "What?! But - I heard him - I know I did - you can't mistake that voice - he said -"

Demyx laid a hand on Axe's shoulder, struggling to control his laughter but unable to suppress a grin. "I think you're hearin' shit, dude," he said in a flawless imitation of the Freeshooter's voice.

Axel's face turned almost purple, hearing that; Demyx was privately afraid that his head might explode. "You - you - fucking - son of a -"

Demyx was starting to get worried that Axel was about to turn to physical violence more substantial than throwing snowballs, but Roxas solved that problem his own way by shoving Axel down into the snow. "Cool down, fireball," he said before the outraged redhead had a chance to react. "You're going to set your hair on fire or something in a minute. Then you might set the cottage on fire, and Demyx would have to pay damages."

Axel lay silently in the snow, glaring poisonously up at the two of them, for several moments, as the brilliant red shade faded a little and his face resumed a more normal color. "You are a matched pair of assholes and I will get you for that sooner or later, got it memorized?" he announced finally, pointing up at them, then stood up slowly, brushing snow off his head and shoulders. "That was serious overkill, though. I mean, there's two of you and one of me, and how damn much snow did you dump on me?" He sighed and shook his head, then turned to go inside, pausing for one final announcement. "I will get you two for that...someday." With that, he stomped inside, presumably to try to get warm and dry again. Demyx was strongly tempted to exchange high-fives with Roxas in front of the window, but figured that might be a little too much salt in the wound. Besides - was Roxas going for more snowballs -? This meant war!

* * *

AN: Number 72, Mischief Managed. You know Axel was asking for it.


	4. Do Not Disturb

One of the benefits of taking a vacation in a little cabin like this was getting a real chance to be alone, Demyx decided, not for the first time. Of course, the first time he'd decided that, he'd been enjoying a good meal and a good storm and the lack of other distractions. This morning, he was lying in a bed that seemed like the one and only warm spot in the building, with an aching head left over from yesterday's fall and an endless number of bruises from the snowball fight afterward. Had he still been at the castle, it would have been a matter of time before either Axel or Roxas came looking for him, even if he'd still been guaranteed the day off. Here at this little cottage, he could lie in bed as long as he wanted, and drag himself out and around in his own good time. He could dedicate the entire day to being a lazy bum, and no one would know or care. Right then, it sounded glorious, he decided as he pulled the blankets back over his head to spend the next three hours sleeping in.

_Sleeping in_. For _three hours_. A luxury only available at the castle to those on the DL. The last time Demyx had slept so blissfully late, he'd been too sick to do much else besides sleep. And no one would be around to razz him or pester him about sleeping so late - he was here alone. Even when he dragged himself out of bed at long last, head still aching, that thought had him smiling - he could laze around all day if he wanted, answerable to no one but himself. Buoyed by the idea, he turned the thermostat up, shrugged on a bathrobe over his pajamas - royal blue satin pajamas he would never have worn around the castle, that made him feel like a rich playboy and encouraged him to pretend that his hot model girlfriend (who only existed in his imagination) was waiting for him in the living room, wearing just enough and not very much - and stumbled into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. A cup of tea he could enjoy without Axel hassling him for not being man enough to drink coffee or Luxord giving him grief for not doing it the right way, as if Luxord's way was any more right than his. After the first few sips, he felt much more human, and his headache had even started to die down a little. Smiling a little more, he headed into the living room, already picturing how his imaginary model girlfriend would look, sitting on the couch, waiting for him to come join her...

"Dammit, Roxas! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Roxas only blinked innocently at him, as if totally clueless as to why his presence in general and his having the balls to show up wide awake and fully dressed when Demyx wanted to lounge around in his pajamas in particular were less than desirable right now. "Well...Axel and I were going to go into Twilight Town today, but Luxord came back at 4:00 this morning with a broken collarbone and Axel got sent to finish his mission, so, um...I thought I might stop by and bum around here for a while...I mean, this is a nice place you have here..." His tone became more and more uncertain as he spoke, as if he was starting to realize that this wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.

Demyx nodded slowly to all this, restraining himself from simply snapping at Roxas again. "Roxas, I just got out of bed," he said in a flat tone when Roxas was done talking.

"Yeah, I figured that out...slowly, but I did figure it out," Roxas said, looking a little embarrassed.

Demyx kept staring at him for a moment, then sighed heavily and sank down on the couch next to him, taking a long drink of tea before saying anything. "Roxas," he started slowly, "I hate to have to break it to you, but the entire reason I twisted Xigbar's arm into a pretzel to get this vacation is because I really wanted a few days completely to myself." Roxas stared blankly at him. "As in, completely _by_ myself. Which is hard to come by in the castle." Same blank stare in response. "...I mean _alone_."

"I did get that part," Roxas said, sounding a touch miffed. "All right, you don't have to get snippy about it. I'll leave if you want me to. By the way, nice pajamas. Are you actually alone here, or were you expecting someone other than me to drop by? Or were they only here for the night?"

Demyx remained silent for a moment as he fought back the impulse to pour hot tea on Roxas's lap, which he only resisted because the thought was enough to make him cringe. "Congratulations, Roxas, you are officially too big of a smart-ass for your own good. Besides, since Axel has no concept of 'too much information' or 'things better kept to yourself', you must know that I have the sex life of an eighty-year-old nun. I'm wearing these pajamas because they're really, really comfortable and let me pretend for a few moments of my pathetic life that I'm a rich playboy."

Roxas reached over and punched him lightly in the arm. "Actually, no, I didn't know that your sex life is nonexistent. Whenever Axel starts sharing too much of that kind of information, he mostly starts talking about himself. Maybe he just isn't aware that you never get any action."

"Oh, trust me, he is," Demyx said dryly, leaning back against the couch. "He's always trying to encourage me to hook up with someone when we're out with the guys, and often accuses me of having no sex drive. Of course, I suppose I should be grateful to him for not sharing that outside of boys' night out, except I just sabotaged myself."

Roxas stuck his tongue out at him. "Your fault. Don't try to pin it on me. So if the action is available, why don't you get any?"

"First, I do get _some_. Second, Axel's idea of how much action a healthy man needs is rather skewed. Third, I'm not really that interested in sex for the hell of it; I would prefer sex in the context of a serious relationship, not a one-night stand, and since I'm not in or likely to be in a serious relationship any time soon, I'm just as happy doing without. Do you have any more intimately personal questions to ask as long as you're intruding on my privacy anyway?"

"I didn't make you answer. You could have told me where to go with my questions."

"...You are too big of a smart-ass. For anyone's good. And I did tell you where to go - back to the castle." Demyx shifted around on the couch so that he had his back to Roxas, as his head started to ache in earnest. "Now let me go back to nursing this day-old headache I have going and daydreaming that my rich, gorgeous supermodel girlfriend is in the next room and will be coming to join me in a moment. You're in her seat, so if I turn around and see you still there, I'm going to be sorely disappointed."

"How disappointed?"

"Disappointed enough to dump hot tea on your crotch."

There was a long pause. "...You know, I believe you mean that. I think I'll get going now. Is there sometime I can visit in the near future without risking my reproductive health?"

"I don't know off the top of my head," Demyx growled, feeling slightly guilty about chasing Roxas out like this but justifying himself with his headache and desire for solitude and Roxas's insistence on being a smart-ass. "Try tomorrow; maybe my head will hurt less then. After 10:00. Castle time."

"Right. Tomorrow. After 10:00. Promise not to kill me if I show up. Or do anything else painful."

"Promise not to be a smart-ass."

"If that's what it will take for you to not dump hot tea on my crotch, then, deal." The couch cushions shifted as Roxas stood up. "All right, I'll leave you alone to enjoy your headache and your imaginary girlfriend."

"Roxas, hot or cold, tea is mostly water. Standing up will not save a smart-ass from getting a sudden hot bath in a very uncomfortable place."

"...See you tomorrow. I think I'll shut up now." Demyx didn't even look up until he heard a portal open and close, and then only looked to confirm that Roxas had actually left. Once he was certain he was alone at last, he lay back on the couch, sighing and closing his eyes, and took a calming drink of tea; imaginary girlfriend be damned, this felt like an excellent time to just flake out and dream up some music. His headache felt better already.

* * *

AN: Number 63, Do Not Disturb. I don't know why, but Roxas just insisted on being a jerk this chapter. Since Demyx was already crabby, he was obviously just going to be a jerk right back. I'm not even sure why they had the conversation they did.

Yes, Axel is totally a player, and Demyx is not.


	5. Gray

Demyx woke up that morning in a grey world. Grey light was filtering into the bedroom from the grey sky outside, dulling everything to infinite shades of grey. All that grey wasn't exactly encouragement to get out of bed; he figured it wasn't even dawn yet. Ah, dawn; how unfamiliar it had become, and yet how wonderful to have an official, visual transition from night into day. And how nice to have it go slowly enough that you could tell when you should wake up, when you could go back to sleep, and when you could sleep for a while and get up in an hour or so. Or when you were still on vacation and could sleep all day if you felt like it, because a day as grey as this didn't hold much promise of being worth waking up for.

Of course, he had pretty much invited Roxas over for the afternoon. Balls.

Well, he'd told Roxas to show up no earlier than 10:00 AM castle time, which was about 1:00 PM on this world. Time enough for him to sleep in some more and still get up and around in time. Mumbling something under his breath that didn't bear any resemblance to coherent speech, he rolled over and let his eyes drift closed again, trying to find a pleasant dream-world that would improve on the grey world outside the cabin. He found himself on some kind of ski-lift-slash-amusement-park-ride with Axel and Roxas, whose configuration reminded him of a roller coaster he'd been on months ago. Fortunately, this ride moved at a much more sedate pace than the coaster had, or else Axel and Roxas would have been sick all over themselves and probably him. It had the track of a roller coaster, but somehow maintained the pace of a ski lift without defying the dream laws of physics. At low speed, they were carried over a sweeping landscape of trees and lakes, to admire the view quite happily, until they were suddenly taken into a sterile white building to watch a stupid puppet show about personal safety or something. While they were sitting buckled into their seats, dumbstruck and bored sick by what the awesome ride had come to, Axel suddenly noticed something a lot more interesting beneath them. Demyx leaned over the side of the...ride vehicle or whatever...to get a better look at whatever he was pointing at.

_Thump!_

All right. Fuck this day. Apparently sleeping it away wasn't going to be an option either. As Demyx picked himself up off the floor, marginally grateful that no one was around to see or hear him fall out of bed, he paused to stare out the window for several moments. It was probably broad daylight in theory by now, but the sky was blanketed in clouds, and the air so thick with snow he could barely see the next house over. Oh, this was perfect; another blizzard. Already feeling cold for no good reason, Demyx stumbled into the kitchen to make himself some hot chocolate, then sat down on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket to stare blankly at some cheery morning show on TV. The cheerfulness of the show's hosts, guests, and content only made him that much crankier, almost as if their cheer was a personal insult. Eventually, he turned it off in favor of staring at a blank screen for a while. That cheered him up about as much as might have been expected.

_This is gonna be one of those days,_ he decided quickly. One of those days where he had nothing better to do than kick back and lounge around, but not in a good way - more like an enforced way. Like he was sick, too sick to go on duty or do anything that required much effort or concentration, but not so sick that he actually _wanted_ to lie around and do nothing all day. Slacking off was just no fun when it wasn't his free choice. He wanted to be up and doing, but there was just nothing to do. With a sigh, he turned the TV back on and tried to find a less obnoxiously chipper show; eventually, he settled on some show about dog training that only interested him insofar as it distracted him. It wasn't much, but it took an effort to pry himself away from it to shower and dress - it was easily the most interesting thing going.

Why didn't he stop by the castle and tell Roxas sorry, but he was in no mood for company today? Why didn't he just cut this vacation short and go back to the castle? Well, because he'd twisted too many arms and spent too much time begging for it to just give it up, but what was the point if it was no longer fun?

_At least it beats chasing Heartless through the mud._

Then again, chasing Heartless through the mud would be something to _do_.

What time was it, anyway? 9:30. Balls. No later than that. He still had three and a half hours before Roxas got here; Roxas wouldn't even be awake yet. What was he going to do with himself for three and a half dingy grey hours? He could go outside and play in the snow, if it wasn't a fucking blizzard outside. Freezing to death once was more than enough. He could go into one of the nearby towns, again, if not for the fucking blizzard. Stressful driving conditions much? It was practically a recipe for triggering a seizure behind the wheel. They came from a wintertime car accident. He didn't want to think what a second might do to him. He could cook himself something, except...nothing seemed good right now. Not even a simple bowl of cereal. He could play sitar, except he was in one of those moods that seemed to stifle all creativity. He could sit around and watch the boring shit on TV, which really seemed the only viable option, aside from going back to bed. _Bo-ring_.

_Next time I get a chance to go on vacation,_ he promised himself, _if I'm dumb enough to go for the cabin-retreat thing again, I am going to bring some books or a DVD player or something. And maybe pick a world where it's summer. Compared to this bloody blizzard, I would love a good thunderstorm._

Fuck it. If he didn't eat something eventually, he'd be risking a seizure. And he really ought to at least make something for Roxas, seeing as he'd presumably be missing lunch at the castle. Eh, blah. He felt beyond uninspired. With a grunt, he started flipping channels again, trying to find a cooking show or something. All he could find was barbecue. Fucking meat. Roxas would eat it, surely, but Demyx refused to serve his friends anything he wouldn't eat himself. Muttering himself, he turned the TV off again, then wandered into the kitchen to see if maybe anything in there could inspire him. Not likely; he'd bought everything in there just a few days ago. No, he decided as he sorted through all the stuff he'd shoved in the fridge and pantry, there was no inspiration here. With a sigh, he returned to the living room, turned the TV back on, and flopped on the floor. Seriously, what better did he have to do?

"Demyx? Are...you okay?"

Demyx ignored those words, not quite sure whether he was awake or misinterpreting what he was hearing from the TV or half-asleep and imagining things or fast asleep and dreaming. It wasn't until someone started shaking his shoulder that he was forced to acknowledge that he was no longer alone in the room. "Ah, balls, what time is it?" he grunted, rolling over and looking at his watch. 1:04 - he must have fallen asleep on the floor. "Fuck it. I must have fallen asleep here..."

"Good," Roxas said sincerely, sitting down on the floor next to him. "When I came in and saw you lying there, I thought you'd had a seizure or something."

"No such luck," Demyx grunted, rolling back into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes. "I was only lying there because it was a change of pace from lying on the couch."

Roxas nodded, but he still didn't look particularly convinced. "How's your head?" he asked in a concerned tone. "I mean, you did hit it pretty hard..."

"Not that hard. And that was two days ago." Demyx sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "So...hi."

"Hi." There was a very, very long moment of silence. "So...um...anything better on TV?"

"Not that I've found so far," Demyx grunted. "You hungry?" He wasn't, nor was he in a mood to cook, but it seemed polite to offer.

"Not really." Another long silent stretch. "...Sorry for being a jackass yesterday."

"That's all right. I wasn't being much better." Demyx sighed, staring blankly at the TV while some chipper woman fried chicken wings. "...Wonder if any pizza places in the area would be willing to deliver in this shit. There is a local phone book somewhere around here."

"I wouldn't. I'd hate to be responsible for the death of some poor delivery guy." Roxas flopped on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. "Are you hungry or something? 'Cause...I could maybe make something..."

"Don't bullshit me, Roxas; you can't cook for shit," Demyx grunted. "No, I'm not particularly hungry. I do appreciate the offer, though." He sighed and stood all the way up. "I should make something. I haven't eaten since breakfast -" or all day, really, but Roxas didn't need to know that - "and you're bound to get hungry later. I'll make something simple. Rice or something."

"All right," Roxas said, remote in hand; now he was busily flicking through the channels. "...There really is nothing on. You want me to go get my PS3 so we can watch DVDs or something? Or I could bring back a board game - better than sitting around and watching it snow."

Demyx paused in the kitchen door, blinking, then managed a little smile, even though Roxas couldn't see it. "Yeah. That sounds good."

* * *

AN: Now that I'm back to updating things I've left alone for ages. All right, this wasn't abandoned half as long as Stronger than Whiskey, but now seemed as good a time as any to get back to it.

Number 19, Gray.


	6. Standing Still

"One adult, all day?"

"That would be it. Um...do you have a trail map?"

"Right here, sir." Demyx nodded and counted out the money for the lift pass, then took one of the trail maps and started looking it over while the cashier counted out his change. "Here you go, sir."

"Thanks...one more thing." Demyx hesitated over this next bit, but figured it was better to embarrass himself mildly now than embarrass himself hugely later. "What...trails would you recommend for a fairly good snowboarder who's been out of practice for a while?"

Thankfully, the cashier acted like he got that question all the time. "I don't snowboard myself; I'm a skier, but I can tell you that if you used to go on the intermediate trails, for the most part, the Cedars is the toughest easy trail, and Roadhouse and Castle Rock are the easiest intermediate trails. You'd probably want to start on one of those until you got back into it."

"Right. Thanks." Demyx took another look at the map, looking for the trails mentioned, and winced a little. "I dunno. Castle Rock doesn't look that easy, for an intermediate trail."

"Trust me, it is. It's not quite as easy as Roadhouse, but it's not half as bad as it looks on the map."

"All right, I'll take your word for it..." With a sigh, Demyx folded the map up and tucked it in his pocket, then headed for the nearest lift. This wasn't a particularly large resort; all three lifts had pretty much equal access to all the trails. The Cedars was his first destination - he hadn't touched his snowboard in nearly a year; he'd almost forgotten he owned one. He hadn't even had the chance to go surfing all summer, for reasons he didn't want to dwell on right now. But that didn't matter much right now - it would have been a crying shame if he'd had this whole week of winter vacation and never took even one day for snowboarding. Despite the fact that he'd forgotten to bring along so much as a CD or DVD player, he had somehow found and remembered to bring all his gear. It was high time he put it to good use.

_Here's hoping I haven't lost my touch._

As the ski lift inched its sedate way up the slope, Demyx silently watched the scenery go by, his eyes half-closed as if he was dozing off where he sat. His mind was already on the slope below him, watching everything rush past in an exhilarating high-speed blur. It was also losing its traction, flipping out of control, and running into one of those cedars the trail was named after. _Stop that,_ he admonished his brain, but it kept throwing mental images at him, of broken legs and broken backs and broken skulls, and once, for variety, having a seizure somewhere out of the way and freezing to death before anyone found him. By the time he reached the top of the hill, he was in a cold sweat, wondering what in Kingdom Hearts's name he'd been thinking when he decided to come up here.

_No_, he told himself fiercely as he strapped his feet onto the board and put his helmet on. _You're going to be just fine, you twit. You know what you're doing. Back when you were still doing this once every week or two, you would never have done a trail like this because it was too easy for you. Your body still knows the moves, no matter what it's been through._

His body was unconvinced, his brain even less so. He was standing at the top of the hill, all geared up and someplace to go, but unable to make himself move. Part of him wanted to rip the board off and run, run for the parking lot, run for the cabin, run for home - part of him was saying _it will be all right, just go_. The end result was, he was stuck, unable to move forward or back. He was just...stuck, the conflicting parts of his mind leaving him at a dead standstill.

_...Someone's going to run over you if you don't get your ass in gear, you know._

It didn't matter. He was still paralyzed.

_Come on, you idiot, come on. You can't stand up here all day making a fool of yourself. You have to get moving sometime, in one direction or the other, before you die of hypothermia._

He couldn't move. All he could do was stand there, staring down the hill, as visions of disaster danced in his head.

_Come on. You know what you're doing. You've charged into situations ten times more dangerous without thinking about it._

Yes, but none of those situation involved snowboarding. They generally involved attacking Heartless or something.

_Come on. You survived everything Malenisa could do to you and then some. You dragged your battered, half-dead ass through - I think Lexaeus said it was almost twelve miles of pitch-dark cave with nothing to follow but a faint breeze, and found the way out by yourself. Nothing this mountain could possibly throw at you could ever be as bad as that. Take a deep breath - yes. That's it. Breathe deeply. Calm down. Calm. Calm. Everything will be just fine. All right. Deep breath - and - go._

And - away he went.

He was gliding downhill, almost like he was flying, faster and faster, out of control - but not out of control; no matter how much his head had been panicking a second ago, his body still knew exactly what it was doing. Shift weight left, shift weight right, don't scare the skiers, oh look, a downed tree without many branches sticking up, perfect jib - and before his brain had a chance to go _Stop! What are you thinking?,_ he was riding right over that tree like he did this every day. He even finished off with a jump, landed perfectly, and continued on his way, skimming over the snow with the wind in his face and the cold on his skin and the world his oyster. His body was in total, perfect control of the snowboard, and his panicky brain was just along for the ride.

He didn't really start thinking again until he was in the process of stopping at the bottom of the hill. He just had to stop, and catch his breath, and actually think about what had just happened and what he'd just done, and realize - that had gone beautifully. Just as awesome as he remembered.

"That," he breathed to himself, "was too easy." Then he started to laugh out loud.

The more he thought about the run, the more he laughed. That had been too easy. He'd taken the whole run without even thinking about it; his body had just taken over and done everything. Done everything right. No matter how out-of-practice he was, the skills were still there, the balance, the reactions - he was still in shape, he still trained regularly, and his body, at least, knew what it was doing.

_All right. We've officially established - you_ can_ still do this._

There was a terrain park on the far side of the hill. It was marked as black diamond, but still, it captured his imagination. And he'd handled that tree all right...

He laughed again as he headed for the lift. This wasn't the time to get cocky - he wouldn't have tried that on when he was still snowboarding fairly regularly. But one thing was for sure - he was done with the bunny trails. Time to see how bad Castle Rock _really _was.

* * *

AN: Number 42, Standing Still.

Yes, Demyx is more than just a surfer. He's a skateboarder and snowboarder too. At least, when he finds time.


	7. Drive

_Kingdom Hearts, what the fuck was I thinking?_

Demyx's knuckles were deathly white as he clutched the steering wheel with both hands, crawling along at a pace that would surely give anyone following behind him a stroke. He could practically hear those hypothetical other drivers behind him, trying to let him know their opinion of his driving - "_Fucking chicken!" "It's called snow, asshole, ever seen it before?" "Go back to Florida, moron!" "Get your ass in gear or get off the road!"_

_All right, calm down. Calm down. Deep breathing. Relax. Because I really - can't - afford - to have - a seizure - right - now._

_I shouldn't be on the road right now. I should have gotten a room for the night at the resort. I shouldn't be driving at all - I should have gone home and gotten Axel to drive me. Except didn't Roxas say he was gone on a long mission? Finishing one for Luxord or something? Balls..._

_At least I'm way too keyed up to fall asleep at the wheel this time. Thin, thin, feeble comfort._

He glanced down at the dashboard involuntarily. Would turning the radio on distract him enough to forget how stressed-out he was and how very much he did not want to be on the road right now, or enough to forget what he was supposed to be doing and how to drive safely? What could he risk, one way or the other? Besides his life and the life of everyone else on the road? Was it more dangerous to drive distracted or utterly freaked out? "Utterly freaked out" seemed riskier, so with a shaking hand, he reached out and turned the radio on, then latched onto the steering wheel again without bothering to change the station, say, to one that actually had a signal. All he got was static from the speakers and feedback from his hearing aids - neither pleasant on their own, and even worse in combination. Cringing, he turned the radio off again quickly and started praying, which prayer consisted of the name of every god he could think of combined with the words _get me out of here,_ with an occasional mention of _don't let me have a seizure_.

There weren't enough words between English, Hindi, and Mandarin to explain exactly how much Demyx hated winter driving. Put as simply as possible, it terrified him. It terrified him shitless. Doubly so after dark - all he could think of was one winter night, on a fairly simple mission with his two best friends, back when seizures were something that only happened to other people and he could still recognize himself in the mirror without having to remind himself who that was looking back at him...and he'd been tired, that was all, just too tired to keep his eyes pried open...he'd just shut his eyes for a second...and woke up a month later. Axel and Roxas were all right now, except for the inevitable scars, and Demyx had pretty much convinced himself that Roxas after the accident was the same as Roxas before the accident, not a clone or evil doppelganger or anything, but the man in the mirror still gave him trouble, and he still couldn't completely shake those fucking seizures.

_I shouldn't be out here at all. There are _reasons_ they have laws against epileptics driving. If I had a seizure behind the wheel right now -_

_No. I can't let myself think about that. The more freaked out I get, the more likely it is that I'll have a seizure._

He didn't even really remember what had caused that accident. He assumed he'd fallen asleep behind the wheel, but he might have just had the relevant memories wiped out by the head injury. He was outrageously lucky to have come around remembering who he was and what he did for a living, honestly. There might have been a deer in the road or something, or an oncoming car, or the tires might have slipped on the ice or something. Did whatever had caused the accident even matter? It was the effects he was living with on a daily basis...

_I shouldn't be out here. I should never have even rented this stupid car. Snowboarding was fun, sure, but this...! The drive up in daylight was all right, but this is...I don't know how much longer I can stand it..._

_Oh...oh, thank all the gods, is that my exit? Yes...yes, it is...thank all the gods..._ Almost sick with relief, Demyx flipped his turn signal on and eased carefully into the exit lane. The agonizing drive was almost over...

It was just that he had the worst part to go. The back roads.

With a muffled sob, he turned onto the road back to the cabin and steeled himself. This was going to be miserable. And it was; every mile seemed to take an hour to travel, even though the speedometer always seemed to be reading so much higher than he thought was safe. In an agony of cold sweat and fear, he inched along the back roads, slamming on the brakes at every stray branch and shadow, until his entire body was shaking with terror. Finally, finally, after what seemed like the entire night, he crawled into the driveway, parked the car, unbuckled his seatbelt...and just sat in the car and cried. The whole experience had just been so nerve-wrackingly awful, he felt paralyzed. Even knowing that he was home safe at last couldn't quell the sheer terror. He could have died, he was sure of it, and he almost had so many times over, if not for the blessings of the gods, he would have died...

_...I'm cold_.

That realization was enough to jar him out of his paralysis of fear. Still trembling, with cold as much as terror now, he finally opened the car door and stepped out, exquisitely careful on the ice as he made his way to the front door of the cabin. It took him two tries to get the door open, and three tries to get the lights on once he was inside, but as soon as he had those two milestones out of the way, he ripped his boots off, all but jumped on the couch, and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, curling up into a ball as he waited for the shivering to die down. He was still crying softly, but as the shivers died down, so did the tears, until he was calm enough to actually sit up and work his arm out from under the blanket to get the remote. Watching TV for a while would help get his mind the rest of the way off the pure hell the drive back had been.

_...I made it_.

The realization took a good half an hour after he walked in the door to filter through, but it was certainly welcome when it came. He'd made it - despite the horrid roads and the ugly weather and his own overwhelming fear, he'd made it. His nerves were shot, his body ached, and he was still cold, but he'd made it. He was safe. And hopefully, he wouldn't have to do that again.

_...Come to think of it, I really didn't need to fall apart like that, did I._

Well, that was one benefit of driving alone. No one had been around to see it. Besides, it didn't matter all that much right now. All that mattered was, he'd made it.

* * *

AN: Number 9, Drive. Winter driving scares Demyx sick; see "Aftermath" for details.


End file.
